The Wine of the Divine
Intoxicated, Overwhelmed
To drink the wine of the divine
And slowly dine with death
The wash of fever, the reaper's cleaver
And a loss of my own breath
To feel the cold begin to mold,
Break and decay my soul
A helpless state, with no debate
Where I was without control
Wretchedly rapturous
Creatures capture us
My mind, body and soul began to split
I lost my movement along with wit
torn apart
No place to start
All was fear
Forever near
The daybreak of love was not so clear wondering when my true self would come back here
I am lost
Come help me dear
About the Creator
Nicholas Goodman
Poet. Writer. Avid Tea enthusiast. Truth seeker. Love maker. Wondering what makes the world smile and how I can create that in words.
https://www.instagram.com/alloflovespoetry/
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The soul careened blindly through a void where it scraped against the walls of a narrow tunnel, amassing a cumulative friction that created all the heat the devil would ever need to torment it. There was no light at the end, not even a fire. From the bottom a cold wind blew, and the clash of extremities spawned vapors of terror in the deadened and numbed appendage that was this strange, delirious, drunken consciousness.
By C. Rommial Butler5 days ago in Fiction
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